


Good Intentions Lead Us to Hell

by Alicebekett



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Body Horror, Eventual Healing, F/F, F/M, Shepard needs a nap man, Slow Burn, basically the whole squad is here at some point, mental illnes, no one else dies but Shep i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicebekett/pseuds/Alicebekett
Summary: After Cerberus brings Velanna Shepard back to life, she can't be sure she isn't some Cerberus puppet. Shepard grows to fear and hate herself, unsure if she’s anything more than a Cerberus puppet. The once soothing sight of space becomes terrifying, reminding her of the cold and suffocating, and trying to scream and being unable to.Then Shepard finds her friends, and makes new ones. She finds new love, new hope, and experiences healing.The road to that health is a long, twisted one however. No one said that finding peace and happiness could be easy.





	Good Intentions Lead Us to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter in what I'm hoping will be a longer type fic. I have a broad outline for how I want this to go, and I'm quite hopeful. 
> 
> TW for mental illness, suicidal thoughts, blood, violence, body horror, etc. Mass Effect 2 really does a number on Velanna's mental health. 
> 
> When chapters contain more explicit things I'll be sure to put more warnings up. Enjoy.

When EDI told Miranda that there was an emergency with Shepard, Miranda had gone to the Captain’s Cabin terrified that Shepard had collapsed. Miranda burst in through the unlocked door to find the room apparently empty.

“The Commander is in the bathroom, Operative Lawson,” EDI said helpfully, “She has not responded to my calls.”

“Thank you, EDI,” Miranda replied coolly. Without another word, Miranda pressed the button that opened the bathroom doors. 

Shepard was sitting on the floor, a pair of scissors in one hand, surrounded by discarded locks of long, blood-red hair. Miranda froze, staring at the horrible, crooked mess on Shepard’s head.

“I don’t like it,” Shepard murmured, not really staring at Miranda, but at the floor, “My hair's too long, and why the  _ hell  _ aren’t there shutters in my cabin?”

Miranda blinked, confused by the sudden change in subject, “What do you mean?”

“I was _ spaced _ ?!” Shepard all but growled, now finally bringing her green eyes up to meet Miranda’s gaze. Miranda could tell Shepard had been crying. 

Miranda felt like an idiot who had failed solving a simple problem, “I’ll get it fixed right away.”

Shepard nodded, angrily cutting off another lock of hair, making Miranda grimace.

“Would you mind me getting Kelly up here?” Miranda asked cautiously, “She can fix your hair, I’m sure.”

Shepard paused mid-cut, “Sure. Tell her to come into the bathroom. I’m not gonna leave with anyone here.”

“I’ll get the plans for shutters done, and sent to the nearest Cerberus base. They’ll be fitted when we reach it.”

Shepard was silent, staring at the scissors in her hand dully. Miranda left, wondering just what had happened.

(LINE BREAK)

When the plans were drawn up by the engineers, Miranda sent them off, then looked into the files she had on one Commander Velanna Shepard. Pictures from right after Mindoir, of hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, a nasty cut going from her left ear to almost her nose in a horizontal line, and long hair.

  
A few years later, at her graduation. Longer hair, piled into an elegant updo. The cut transformed into a thick, ropey scar. Still thin, still exhausted looking, but her eyes weren’t hollow. 

  
Then, the Spectre Ceremony, after Saren’s defeat. Long hair, strictly pulled into an Alliance regulated bun. Looking worn, covered in bandages, using a cane, and having one arm in a sling. 

Miranda stared at the pictures, and wondered what had changed. Had Shepard always hated her hair, but had never had the courage to cut it herself or pay someone else to do it? Miranda sighed, and contacted Kelly through her Omni-Tool.

“Kelly, the Commander requires your hairstyling services up in her room. She’ll be in the bathroom so you can get the best lighting.”

There was an awkward pause, but Kelly responded, “Okay. Tell the Commander I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said, shutting off the Omni-Tool. She stared at her computer, and the pictures of Shepard, and hoped she hadn’t made some horrible mistake.

The next day, the  _ Normandy _ SR2 arrived at the nearest Cerberus base, leaving Miranda to supervise the fitting of the shutters to Shepard’s quarters.  From where she stood, to the side of the  _ Normandy _ , watching the workers intently, Miranda saw Shepard step out of the ship, sporting a new haircut that looked utterly alien on her features. 

Shepard’s blood red hair had a bit of a fringe in the front, long enough to hang into her eyes if Shepard allowed it to. The rest of it was cut short enough that it emphasised the fringe. The cut looked good, showcasing Shepard’s high, wide cheekbones, while also allowing Shepard to hide her eyes somewhat.

Miranda didn’t blame Shepard for wanting that, noting the red scars on Shepard’s face, wondering if any superficial scarring had appeared in Shepard’s eyes yet. Shepard’s eyes were carefully downcast from the void of space, moving quickly into the interior of the station, refusing to meet Miranda’s gaze.

Miranda couldn’t blame Shepard for not wanting to talk to the woman who had walked into the middle of some sort of breakdown, either. Miranda wondered, for the first time since Shepard awoke, if it hadn’t been better to leave Shepard to die. Something was clearly wrong, and Miranda couldn’t tell if it was because of the reanimation, or if it was just Shepard herself. 

Miranda didn’t want to break the news to the Illusive Man, either, if he didn’t already know about the incident. 

Miranda took a deep breath, steadying herself, and turned her attention back to the workers and the  _ Normandy _ .

Velanna Shepard stood at the counter of the only supply store on the seedy little station, feeling dozens of people staring. The back of her neck itched, and Shepard’s fingers did the same, absentmindedly drifting to the pistol she was wearing on her right hip. 

_ Calm, cool, collected.  _ Shepard reminded herself, trying to breathe silently as the cashier blandly told her about the specials that the shop owned. Shepard didn’t care, she only wanted three things: alcohol, supplement bars, and the strongest instant coffee the station could legally sell her. Potentially the strongest coffee they had on the station period, if the Cerberus guy wasn’t going to stop soon.

Shepard sighed, “All I want is supplement bars, alcohol that humans can drink, and the strongest coffee you have available. I don’t care if it’s a legal concentration of caffeine or not.”

The cashier sputtered to a stop, shrugged, then gestured to the panel, “Here you go, Commander. Whatever you order will be brought to the ship before you leave.”

“Make sure they’re brought to my private quarters,” Shepard said, going through the different menus, and buying what she wanted. It was close, since Shepard was unable to access her Alliance account and she was a bit tight on creds, but she managed to get what she needed.

Without saying anything else, Shepard left, feeling an acrid taste in the back of her mouth. Cerberus wasn’t something she wanted anything to do with. She’d heard plenty about Akuze and other terrorist acts Cerberus had been involved with, and she wanted as little to do with them as she could manage.

Almost like a reminder, she passed a mirror. In her periphery, from under her hair, she could see the scars glowing unnaturally red under her skin. Shepard’s skin crawled, and all she wanted to do was to reach under the skin and pull out whatever Cerberus had done to make her feel so wrong.

Nothing felt right anymore, and even though Shepard knew that made no sense, she felt like all sensations were phantom ones: none of them really seemed real or hold any permanence. Even her long hair, so treasured and cultivated for years, had felt alien and wrong. 

Even now, the clothing she wore felt  _ wrong _ like they were too heavy, or too scratchy without really looking wrong. 

Velanna grit her teeth, storming past Miranda, and back onto the Normandy. At least her head didn’t feel like it was going to explode anymore.

“Commander!?”

Velanna paused, changing direction to move to the cockpit. There was Joker, happily seated in a chair that looked more comfortable than anything the Alliance offered.

“What is it, Joker?

Joker frowned for a moment, adjusting his cap, “Nothig serious, Commander. Just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing.”

Shepard absentmindedly ran a hand through her new hair. It still felt weird. Not wrong, not like before. Just...different, “I’m fine.”

Joker’s eyes narrowed, and he looked ready to say something further, but the airlock door opened and Miranda strolled in, looking at her Omni-tool.

“The engineers are almost done the shudder,s, Commander. We’re still waiting for some supplies to be brought on board. After that we’ll be ready to go.”

If Joker hadn’t known Velanna as well has he did, he probably would have missed it. When Miranda approached, Velanna stiffened imperceptibly. Joker raised an eyebrow at Miranda, his own displeasure clear on his features. If Velanna didn’t like Miranda, he was going to follow her lead.”

“Thank you for the update,” Velanna said, her voice hard, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, Velanna pushed past Miranda.

Joker frown  turned more hostile. Miranda looked...not shocked, but put off. Joker sighed, glaring up at Miranda.

“What did you do to her?”

“We brought her back.”

“Are you sure, because that’s not the Commander I remember.”

Miranda said nothing, turning simply on her heel and marching off.

“Commander Shepard has the same DNA as the Commander Shepard who pulled you off of the original Normandy,” EDI piped in. 

Joker turned his chair around to glare at the holographic sphere hovering obnoxiously close. He chose not to say anything. He’d already said too much. He’d already found bugs around, and he didn’t trust the AI not to say anything to anyone that could make Shepard’s life harder.

Joker just hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in joining Cerberus, even if they let him fly again.


End file.
